


For The Life Of Me

by dundus



Series: For The Life-Verse [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Seventh Heaven
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Mary Sue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-09
Updated: 2010-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-06 01:30:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dundus/pseuds/dundus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike needs a project to occupy his time post-Gift. AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For The Life Of Me

I cannot for the life of me (ha!) remember how I got into that position in the first place.  I suppose I had been being arrogant and careless.  I did that a lot.  I still do, but it's different now.  I have cause.  And I have backup.

Whatever the reason, there I was.  They were sloppy, sloppy fighters.  But they had some things I didn't.  Numbers, for one.  Surprise, for two.  And let's not discount their superhuman strength.

I was backed up against the wall.  Two of them stood just outside my legs' reach.  They'd learned that lesson at least.  Once I'd worked out what was going on, I'd managed to knock one of them down with a kick to the head, and speared him through his useless heart with a piece of the wooden crate that broke his fall.

I don't think his friends had anything personal against me – their memories of him probably lasted no longer than his corporeal form.  They were hungry, and they weren't happy that their meal was putting up a fight.

Just about now I suppose it would have been time for the inevitable to set in.  Before that could happen, though, a shout from the darker end of the alley turned their fanged and ridged heads.  Not mine.  Still focused on the vamp nearest me, I used my ad hoc stake to off another of the merry crew.

Now there were only seven.  The silly part of my brain had time to wonder if adrenaline would sour the taste of my blood.  I certainly hoped so, as I let out a roar, and charged the next attacker.

He was still distracted, but noticed me in time to put up a little fight.  Too little.  Now three were gone.  Even in my berserker rage, this was feeling a little too easy.  When I spun around I noticed the count had fallen even further, thanks to what seemed to be a blur of blond hair and black leather.

His style mesmerized me.  He took a particular joy in what he was doing.  Every fibre of his body seemed to thrill at the kill.  No, not every fibre.  What I could see of his face was deathly grim, as was the satisfaction he was taking in dispatching the vamps.

There lay my demise.  I was grabbed from behind, pinned by cold steely arms.  I lacked the presence of mind to scream, transfixed by what I knew was to come.

And it did.  My head snapped painfully to the right and a hard, ridged, face dove into my exposed neck.  I was beyond pain when the fangs sank into my throat, but perversely I can clearly recall blood spilling down my front, and soaking into my clothes.

I raised my head a little, and met the eyes of my would-be rescuer.  The grim mask of his features started to change, and I remember anger, but then everything started to blur, from his face on outwards, as I felt myself sag.

I opened my eyes, and wondered when I'd closed them.  I was looking up at his face now.

"I'm sorry, love."  His frown was intense, making me feel guilty for lying dying in his arms. "I tried.  Really."

I wanted to say something, anything at all to comfort him, but I was cold.  And I couldn't think of anything past his searing eyes.

"Fuck it!" The force of his curse shook him, and me in his arms.  "You want another go round?  The price is high, but it's something."

He was looking away from me now, getting further and further away in thought.

I summoned everything I had left.

"Yes."  It was weak, but so was I.  And I wanted more than anything for him to look back at me.  If I was going to die listening to silly promises, I wanted to lose it in the crystal of his eyes.

Suddenly they weren't crystal anymore.  They were warmer, and haunted.  But they were looking at me, and that was all I wanted.

I'd used up all the strength I had left with that one word.  I fought, but I felt my eyes closing as his hand touched my face, cupped my mouth wetly, pouring something cool into it.

I inhaled, coughed, drank because he seemed to want it.  And I continued to slip away, even as I told myself he didn't want me to go.

* * *

I was struggling, twisting, and kicking, but the arms that held me were stronger than my own.  I snapped my eyes open, and met that implacable gaze again.

Again?  Why?  I ran my tongue around my mouth, recognizing the taste of blood.  And liking it.  Had I always liked it?  The inconceivable was happening – I was thinking of something other than the platinum stranger that had fed me and held me as I died. 

I was thinking of the play of my muscles underneath my skin.  I was thinking of the myriad smells in the air – foremost of them dust.  I looked around.  His embrace loosened as I twisted and stared into the corners of the dusky room.  We were underground, behind stone walls, lying on a stone bed, tangled in a worn velvet throw.

"What happened?"  I knew it was dark, but that wasn't preventing me from seeing the cobwebs and the litter.

"You were attacked."  His voice was like honey over rocks.

"I remember that part.  I lost, didn't I?" Now I could remember the magic of his eyes.  I didn't think I could take both the voice and the stare at once, so I kept my eyes on my surroundings.

"They killed you."

"And this?" I looked at my hands, tried to pull myself to a sitting position.  It wasn't easy, but I was a step ahead of where I'd thought I'd be.  "And you?"

"I saved you." He laughed dryly. "Or maybe not."

I was sitting up now, swinging my legs cautiously over the edge of the bier.  There was enough strength in my arms to get me off the stone platform, so I tried it.

Whoa!  My arms hadn't consulted my legs when they made that decision.  But he was faster and stronger than me, and holding me before I was in any real danger of hitting the hard floor.

"Here." I was suddenly sitting back on top of the coffin.  And a mug had been pressed into my hand.  Its contents smelled delicious.  And salty and coppery.

I was licking the last remnants off my lips when I finished getting 4 from the 2 and the 2 in front of me.

At least, I think it was 2 and 2.

"You're a vampire?"  I had to look at him now, and I hoped I'd still be able to think clearly.

"Yeah.  You too, now."

"Huh.  I kinda figured. Why?  Why were you against them?  For me?"

"Long story.  But I don't like watching women die as much as I used to.  Especially not when they put up a fight.  And a good one it was, until you froze."

"That was your fault." How could I be finding this funny?  At least I was able to react to stimuli, even if I'd lost all sense of what was appropriate.  "You were beautiful."

I felt something surge inside me.  I suppose it wasn't blood, or heat, or hormones, but it was powerful.

My rescuer was not impressed.  And apparently quite surge free.

I was happy he'd saved my life.  Unlife.  Whatever. I suddenly realized I'd be needing a new vocabulary. Why wasn't he more happy?  He just seemed tired.

"So now I just run out into the night and ravage the innocent and drink their blood?" It did sound appealing, although I had been trying to sound sarcastic.

"No." His voice was flat, and a stake had appeared in his hand.

I was terribly confused.  Attacked, saved, threatened with dusting.

"I told you it was a long story, luv." It was a good thing he was answering my unasked question, because I was overwhelmed again. "But I don't hurt humans any more.  I'd love to forget you all, but it's too late for all that. And I can't allow you to hurt … any of them."

"You're weird." I get my voice back and that's what I say?  I call my handsome rescuer, my knight in black leather "weird"?  Obviously vamping had seriously affected me in ways I'd never have predicted.

He was still distant and cold.

"I think I know a way you can feed.  And not harm any innocents.  If you don't agree, I'll finish the job those half-assed wannabees started, and not even remember you.  If you do, I might just get to keep to the spirit of a promise I made, even though I have failed to keep to the letter."

Who was I to say no to this man?

"Show me."

He took my hand and helped me to my feet.  I sank into his body, partly because I was still a little weak, and partly because I could.  It wasn't until then I noticed that I was wearing his shirt, and not my blood soaked clothes.  And he was wearing a T-shirt.  Through which I could clearly feel his smooth, lean abdominal muscles as I held myself up.

Together we walked towards a corner I hadn't looked into before.  With his free hand he opened a large wooden box that smelled of old cedar.

Before I could see what was inside, he turned to me.

"What's your name?"

So he could do tender.  His voice, the look in his eyes.  Both tender.  Hopeful, perhaps.  I didn't know vampires could do that.  But I didn't know vampires could not hurt humans either.  And suddenly I didn't care.

Oh.  He was still looking at me.  He'd asked me a question, I remembered.

"If you have a name, luv?"

"ita."

He smiled skeptically.  "Really?"

"Yeah!" Familiar indignation gave me a voice where his eyes wanted to take it away.  "Christened and everything."

"That won't do you much good any more." His words were still amused, but his fingertips brushed my jaw gently, and his eyes were warmer than they'd ever been. "Good fight, ita.  Just gotta keep your eyes on the prize.  Brass ring, and all that."

He turned back to the box.

He wasn't holding me anymore, and my legs weren't up to the task.  I slid slowly to the floor.  He looked over, assured himself that I was still under control and went back to his ferreting.  With full arms he went over to another bier and started laying out implements.  His legs firmly planted, his hands on the edge of the slab, he started to mutter things I couldn't hear.

"You need me, or am I okay here?"

I suppose it wasn't a good time to interrupt, since he flashed me a disapproving stare without breaking his rhythm.  I folded into myself, nursing a combination of embarrassment and anger.  I was restless, hungry and weak.

Something in front of him started to glow.

"C'mere now, doll."

"ita," I mumbled to myself.  And learned something about the sharpness of vampire ears, as he turned to look at me again, smiling smugly.

I took this opportunity to lean against him again.  I was still weak, after all.  And he was still strong.  Actually I felt stronger than my mind was used to, but my body was sure that this was nothing compared to how strong I would be, and was being hesitant all on its own.  And I wasn't complaining.

In front of him was some sort of screen.  I couldn't see anything clearly.  He paused.  Cleared his throat.

And interrupted my musings about undead phlegm with an explanation.

"There are many dimensions," he said.

And why not, I thought?

"For one reason or another, I won't feed on humans – on the innocent.  But there are dimensions with quite tasty dishes that I'd love to try out.  I need someone to go with me.  The spell requires it."

"You want to me to eat aliens?"

"They taste just like humans, I've heard.  Look and feel just like humans.  But evil.  We'd be doing all the dimensions a favour, really."

He laughed again.  I didn't like this laugh, although I realized it had nothing to do with me.

"Taste like human, you say?"

"Oh, it's quite a taste.  Quite the taste, indeed.  Nothing like it – warm from the body while the heart beats its last."

"It's been a while, huh?"

His eyes flashed, and he looked back down at the screen, which I could now see was a mirror.

"And that will show us these 'tasty dishes'?"

Now this smile was something I could deal with.

"Let me show you the menu."

I melted into him again.

"Understand that this is just a drive through, love. I've got a … responsibility here.  The magic ticket's for two. We go, we eat, we come home.  These worlds are shallow anyway.  Shallow and soulless. Not as fun as this one. Just remember you follow my rules."

I still couldn't work out how to deny him anything.

He tapped the screen once, with a finger tipped with chipped polish.  The picture resolved itself into a bedroom.  A boy was sitting on a double bed; talking to someone we could not see.

Although his conversation was not audible, other senses kicked into overdrive.  The smell of food overwhelmed my new senses. It was a rich young smell, heady with adolescent lust.

I pointed to dinner's strong jaw and floppy blond hair.  A spasm of hunger ran through my body.

"Oh, can we?" I whispered.

The angle expanded, and we could see that there was a girl there too.  A beautiful brunette, with a trembling lower lip, her body on the edge of womanhood, looked at the teenaged boy from the window of the room.  I was getting weak again.

"Please?"

The scene shifted entirely to show a tall, slightly gangly, brown-haired young man who seemed to be looking up at the very window we'd been watching a second ago.  He cursed and kicked a tree trunk, then cursed more as he flexed his foot gingerly.

"Are they just like humans?" Questions rushed through my brain. "Can we vamp them?  Him?" I pointed at the brunet.  "Can I have him?  Please?"

My hero looked at me again, frowning.  Then he laughed.

"Let's start you walking before you run, shall we?" He paused, narrowing his eyes. "Remember – you don't touch anyone I say you can't touch.  And I've decided this young man is off limits.  I think I like him."

"This is boring." I guess I didn't sub vocalize like I'd intended, because my sentiment earned me another disapproving look.  Then, I saw a flash of understanding, sympathy perhaps, and got a pat on the ass.  I decided not to question the facial expression, and to focus instead on what mattered.

He tapped the screen again.  More brunettes, three, all female.  They pulsed with life and power, making me impatient.  Their smell was even headier than the kids before.

"Now?"

Before he could answer, or even fail to answer, a tall and handsome brown haired man entered their room, gaining stares of distrust from two of the women, and love from the other.

"Gah!" I turned to look at my companion's face.  It was creased with contempt. "He thinks **he's** a demon in love with a force for good.  Not bloody likely.  He doesn't even know the half of it."

He tapped again, hurriedly.

A large group – 7 teens.  The smell off of 4 of them was powerfully unappetizing, drowning out what might have been the scent of 3 perfectly good meals.

"Trust me," he said.  And I did. "That would answer your question about eating aliens.  You don't want to know."

Next, we were presented with the dim-sum of the vampire world.  A rotation of images showed us a huge family, earnest and quiveringly edible.  Sanctimony oozed from every pore, from the blonde twin baby boys up through the college-aged son with silly hair and to the beaming parents.  The father had a smell of the church on him, which made it all the more enticing.

"Now **that's** what I call heaven." He pulled me even closer to him, and pressed me into a kiss.  I felt his face change, grow ridges.  His teeth grew into fangs against my lips, grazing them.  In a heartbeat, someone else's heartbeat, I felt my face change too, and power surge through me.  Heady with new sensation I kissed him back, hungrily.

He pulled away, looking at me in my new face.  His laugh sent eager shivers down my spine.  He wrapped smooth fingers into mine, and pulled me towards a circle drawn on the floor.  Inside, it shimmered slightly when you didn't look at it directly.

I tried to raise my eyebrows, but I couldn't feel anything happen.  Instead I laughed back, richly, and leapt when he leapt, ready to eat.

* * *

The young man's body was propped against the wall.  I squatted, fascinated, watching as blood leaked slowly from the neat holes in his neck to pool behind his collarbone before it spilt down his chest and onto his ripped shirt.  I knew I was full – a twenty-something young man holds a lot more blood than I can – but the pull was magnetic. I dipped my fingers into it and raised them to my nose.  Reason #1 to simulate respiration – the heightened sense of smell.  I slipped my fingers into my mouth and savoured the cooling taste.

I assume it was my sigh of pleasure that drew a laugh from my companion.  He was seated atop the sofa, feet spread apart, elbows on knees, sated and smiling.

"Is it always like this?" I asked.

"Like what, little one?"

The literal translation of my name couldn't have been coincidence.  And I'd never liked it.

"Where'd a Brit like you learn Spanish?"

A dark memory flashed across his face.

"I get around."

"Is feeding always like this?" I was happy to change the subject. "It was nice, but . . ."

He let me trail off, and silence filled the room, where we sat with two corpses.  I fidgeted through my meal's pockets.  Rifling through wallets is always interesting.

"But what?" he said eventually.  "You're full.  You should be happy."  His tone was open ended, his eyes expectant.  But I couldn't work out if there was a right answer, much less what it could be.  Or what finding it might earn me.

"It wasn't fun."  Nothing seemed more important to me than fun right now.

One eyebrow, his left, arched and he waited for me to explain.

I was exasperated, and a little disappointed.

"Do they all just give up like that?"

Now he smiled, and let out an amused grunt.

"Not everyone looks at a vampire attack as an excuse to flex their muscles, kitten, no matter how impressive the muscles."

Well, at least he wasn't translating my name anymore. It was only now I realized I didn't know his. I had fought with him, died in his arms, drunk his blood, kissed him, killed and eaten with him.  Still I wondered if now was a good time to ask for an introduction.  I decided it wasn't.

It had been a boring kill.  Reverend Camden and his son (I had gone through both wallets by now) had frozen at our vamp-faced attack, and offered no challenge or real resistance.

"You want to play with your food?" He was still evaluating me. "Didn't your mum teach you any manners?"

"Not play …" I grimaced at him, but it was an empty gesture. "I want to fight, you know?  A good fight."

"Like the one that killed you, perhaps?"

"Right." And I meant it. "I was enjoying myself."

He laughed darkly.

"What kind of a girl were you when you were alive, kit?"

His attitude was infectious.

"Life of the party, big boy." I stood up and moved towards him.

"Spike." He stepped down from the couch.

"Hmm." Suddenly I didn't care about his name.

We were close now, toe-to-toe.  I couldn't resist, and raised a fingertip to trace the dramatic line of his cheekbone.  I came to a stop at the corner of his mouth, and might have stayed there forever, had he not grabbed my hand.

Although startled by his sudden motion, I could not step back, nor break away from his stare.  He pulled my hand towards his mouth, and placed a slow deliberate kiss in the well of my palm, meeting my eyes all the while.

A warm sensation shuddered up my arm.  His tongue darted out of his mouth and lightly licked my hand.  All the warmth was replaced by an icy tingling that ricocheted through my body.

Recommendation for fake breathing #2 – Spike exhaled slowly, and the moisture on my palm cooled even further as it evaporated, sending a sparkle of sensation over me.

I was still locked in place, but my eyes followed the motion of his other hand down to the front pocket of his jeans.  He snaked his fingers into it and pulled out a folded scrap of paper.

"Let's finish this at home, pet." He held my hand firmly but gently, and I wouldn't have dreamt of resisting his grip.  With practiced ease he flicked open the piece of paper with his free hand.  "You'll need to recite the other half of the spell to get us back."

* * *

His hand rested on my stomach, his thumb stroking the explosions of freckles, the tattoo, my navel. I lay, head in hands, missing sweat.  The slickness, the mark of a job well done.  But if we'd been alive to sweat, I doubt we'd have had either the stamina or the appetite we'd just enjoyed.

He took slow drags from the cigarette in his other hand.  I appreciated not having to breathe the smoke – it smelt even fouler now, although it didn't tickle or scratch my lungs the way it used to.

He'd been watching me for the last twenty minutes, with the silent patience years can bring.  I rolled on my side to look at him, and his gaze did not waver.  His hand adjusted on my hip, and I closed my eyes to take pleasure in the sensation.

"Feel better, kit?"

My eyes shot back open.  I rolled over onto my front before answering him, tracing my own patterns on the velvet throw.

"Well, sure."

"Less restless?"

"Some."

"There's part of you still aching for a fight, isn't there?" His hand tensed on my back, pressing between the muscles.  "I can feel it all over you."

I shrugged, preferring silence.  I had no idea how to express my feelings of frustration at having nothing to do with all this new speed and strength sitting useless inside me.

"And I reckon it'd have to be a real fight.  One with danger?" He ran his fingertip up my spine, and I arched my back to meet the gentle pressure.  "No point otherwise."

I nodded.

"Maybe some people here in Sunnydale would put up a better fight?" I wasn't meeting his eyes anymore.  I needed to know how flexible his rule was.

His hand stopped moving.  Not flexible at all, I decided.  He took a last pull of the cigarette and flicked it onto the floor.

"We've been through that before."

I flashed him a hesitant and apologetic glance.  But this need was a growing itch.

An itch he seemed to understand.

"There's others here you can fight."

I looked up, hopefully.

"Not food, mind you, but there's some good fighting to be had.  Sunnydale attracts all sorts of vampires and sundry demons."

This sounded promising.  I had no allegiance to anyone but him, this beautiful undead man that had turned me.  And threatened to kill me if I crossed him.

"Just follow my lead, luv, and there'll be plenty of fights to go round."

My anticipation radiated from every pore.  He laughed and slapped me lightly.

"Not yet, kit.  It's daytime outside.  Have a kip and we'll go looking for trouble come dark."

Pleased, very pleased, I snuggled into his cool body.  But he wasn't finished.  His touch was tender, brushing my neck and back.  His tone, however, was implacable.

"Remember – no feeding.  Even when I'm gone.  And I will be gone, because I have things to tend to, duties to perform.  I will smell it on you.  I will know, and I will kill you.  We only eat through there." He gestured with his chin towards the inactive portal on the floor.

I smiled, closing my eyes and tucking my head into his neck.  His terms were perfectly reasonable.

For now.


End file.
